


Breakfast for Will

by firecube



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hannibal makes pancakes, M/M, and everybody needs some fluff now and then, but I failed at serious and now it’s downright fluffy, but the seriousness is still in there, drinking blood is sexy, so there, this was originally meant to be serious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 10:09:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5662441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firecube/pseuds/firecube
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal makes breakfast in bed for Will.<br/>It’s vegetarian for a change.<br/>(Well, almost.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakfast for Will

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I’ve ever written for this fandom. *quivers with stage fright*   
> After I finished season 3 and fangirled myself into oblivion, I felt really shoddy about never having done a fanfic, because Hannibal has definitely become one of my top favorite series. So I came out with this idea, most likely due to my blood fetish.  
> It’s a lot different than what I had originally planned. At first I was trying to plan out a philosophical character-study kind of thing. But it’s still set when I had initially intended it to be: in the house at the edge of the cliff, the morning of the day (well, night) they kill Dolarhyde (although that’s not explicitly stated, so I’m saying it here.)  
> (If this is OOC, I’m so sorry. I don’t know if the thing with the blood is a good idea or what, but if I was Hannibal I would totally do it.)

Waiting for the butter in the pan to begin to melt and sizzle, Hannibal makes sure the batter is thoroughly stirred. He pauses to consider the simple combination of ingredients, – flour, milk, an egg, sugar, and a touch of oil – the basic components of pancakes.

Something is missing.

He retrieves a kitchen knife, examines its sharpness, and circles a finger over his wrist thoughtfully. He slits it open with efficiency, in a way that a satisfactory amount of blood will flow, but making sure that it can easily be staunched.

Hannibal holds his wrist out over the batter, allowing just enough blood to join it so that it does not compromise the intended flavor, wrapping it with a handkerchief once he has gotten all that is needed.

He smiles softly, pleased by his idea, and hopes that Will will find it tasteful of him.

(A thought briefly pervades his mind, of sinking his teeth into Will, right where his neck and shoulder meet. His mouth fills with Will’s blood, and it tastes beautiful.)

Hannibal bookmarks the thought for later. He would certainly do that very thing, should an appropriate opportunity present itself.

*

The impeccably proportioned pancakes are completed shortly. They join omelets and toast, meticulously placed on a platter.

Despite the flawless appearance (and of course flavor) of it all, it is the simplest meal Hannibal has cooked in a very long time.

But this morning, he finds something expedient in the simplicity.

He realizes that he hadn't given much consideration as to the beverages. Wine won't fit, not this time. He considers it for a moment, pours a glass of milk, and then another. As a matter of fact, the whole breakfast platter is set to serve two.

*

Hannibal knocks softly on Will’s door with his free hand. “Will?”

He can tell Will was already awake. He hadn't been before Hannibal had headed for the kitchen. (Yes, Hannibal had personally verified as much.)

Will shuffles around for a moment, obviously reaching for some clothes. He opens the door in a wrinkled T-shirt and flannel pants, a searching look on his face, laced with grogginess.

“Good morning, Will. Did you sleep well?”

Will steps out of the way to allow Hannibal in. “No.”

Hannibal smiles. “Your old friends insomnia and night terror, I presume?”

Will sits back down on the bedside and runs a hand through his messy hair. “Yeah. I slept for a couple of hours, I guess. Then I woke up and smelt _cooking_.” He stares purposefully at the platter, presumably waiting for an explanation.

Hannibal sits down beside Will. “Yes, I thought you might find yourself able to appreciate the convivial prospect of breakfast-in-bed.”

Will narrows his eyes. “I would say you must have had someone tucked away in the freezer, but I don’t see any meat.”

“There is no _meat_ today, Will, I assure you. As a matter of fact, it’s almost completely vegetarian.”

He continues to scrutinize the food, attempting to figure out the true meaning behind the remark as Hannibal unfolds the legs on the platter, setting it up across both of their laps.

Will works his jaw before inquiring, “Since when are you so . . . Spartan with your cooking? And not eating properly at the table, of all things?”

Hannibal smiles, looking dead at him. “This is for you Will; therefore things like that don’t matter.”

He picks up his knife and fork before adding, as an afterthought, “And the Spartan aspect merely adds to the intended conviviality.”

Will continues to look at the meal Hannibal has made for the both of them hesitantly.

“Won't you humor me, Will?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t want to be a . . . _killjoy_.”

*

They eat in silence for the most part, until all that is left between them is a few pancakes and just enough milk to wash them down, when Will chooses the moment to ask, “What did you mean by ‘ _almost_ completely vegetarian’?”

“I meant that there is no ingredient derived from the flesh of a living organism.”

“So what ingredient warrants the use of ‘almost’?”

“Blood.”

“From whom?”

“Me.”

“In the pancakes?”

“Yes.”

Will remains silent for a few minutes before asking flatly, “Why did you do this?”

Hannibal begins stacking the empty plates neatly atop one another. “Why did I spill my own blood into the pancake batter? I wanted to give you a part of me.”

Will shakes his head subtly. “No. Why did you do the whole thing, the whole breakfast-in-bed deal?”

“You ask me as if you expect one specific reason.”

“Then give me the _primary_ reason for you getting up this morning and doing this.”

“My given opportunities to do so may be quite limited. I didn’t want to risk pushing the boundaries of that possible limitation any further.”

“And what, exactly, does the existence of this ‘possible limitation’ depend on?”

Hannibal looks back at him before exiting just as he came, platter, now devoid of food, in hand. “It depends upon you, Will.”

END

**Author's Note:**

> OK, this is something I can't help but bring up:  
> The day I wrote this, my friend was asking me what I had been writing, and as I was explaining it, I said “But the thing is that due to bodily fluid being in it, it’s not 100% purely vegetarian.”   
> I really need to think about what comes out of my mouth sometimes, because she paused awkwardly for a moment and then said, “Wait, so does this guy like . . . jack off into the pancake batter?”  
> I nearly choked to death on my spaghetti. I’m not sure that I’m capable of going THERE.  
> But for anyone who is, I guess I might’ve just given you a good idea . . . *evil smirk*  
> See look I’m totally not putting ideas into anyone’s head  
> Soooo, anyways, thank you for reading, and I really appreciate feedback of any kind because I really felt like a lost puppy writing this. (But in that case, maybe I can convince Will to adopt me. *smiles*)


End file.
